


You Chose This Path

by Anonymous



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Gen, Guilt, Potentially Dysphoric, Second Person, Semi-Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 15:21:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17449511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: You're becoming intimately familiar with that coiled feeling around your neck...





	You Chose This Path

You’re becoming almost intimately familiar with that feeling. The coiling sick twist like a tightly knotted rope deep in your belly. Around you people sing praise, they talk in loud voices and beaming smiles are sent your way. But it’s all like the spotlight, fuzzy outlines and faded shapes. Blocks of colour that surrounds you and quickly blurs together.

You’re becoming intimately familiar with that sensation.

It crawls up your back. It itches under your shoulder blades and like a noose bands itself around your neck.

Still you smile, you accept it with wide open arms and a laugh that betrays the confidence that you don’t have. The spotlight is on you, everyone is looking towards you. You are the one who wrote those songs.

~~You are not the one who wrote those songs.~~

~~You don’t deserve their praise, their adoration it should go to-~~

In the night you stare at the glass, you still have it. It is still tainted, the faint traces of powder, of poison that sticks there, making it foggy and clouded. You can still see it, the moment of change. An open book to write your own future. To claim the fate that was held out to you. How dare _he_ try to tear it away. Taking himself and his songs far beyond where you could ever follow.

You had to choose that day.

You had to decide what to lose.

In the night you hear whispers, that little voice in the back telling you what you already know to be true. You didn’t _have to_. But you did. You close your eyes and shake your head, drown the voice out with the music. Ignore those shadows flickering in view, when you hear their praise some part of you wonders. Do they know? How could they?

You raise your glass, you raise your voice. A cheerful toast.

You can taste that powder in every cup. Slowly drinking down your own poison. In the crowd you see his face. Out of the corner of your eye, you keep turning, looking for someone who’s not there.

In the night you lie sleepless. Hearing that voice, hearing those questions. It crawls up your back when people ask if you’re doing okay. You plaster on your smile, and assure them it’s fine. Fingers like claws grasp your hand. The feeling is cold, almost numb. The words you speak, that you sing taste like ashes on your tongue.

You can still see him.

You can still see them.

The lies roll off your tongue as sweet as honey. But not all of them are lies and those small truths hurt like knives. The honesty digs into your skin. Clawing and raking down, pulling rivets of red out. Yet when you look you are clean. Your own fingers dig into your skin, you pull at your hair and just wonder.

You wonder if it’s worth it. You wonder why the truths that you tell hurt the most. You are the greatest, you are the one who everyone adores. And yet it’s painful to accept their adoration. Something that crawls under your skin, that grips your throat and throttles your voice. It creeps up your spine, curling back down and constricting in your chest. A shuddery breath and you continue to smile.

In the shadows you see him. You hear his voice, you hear their cries and shouts. Praise turns to accusations and you barely get any sleep. Alone you feel the eyes. Watched.

One, two, three, four.

They come to you.

Chihuahuas. Small companions who never speak a word. One, two, three, four.

There is no pressure from them. No judgement. One you had before that fateful night and you find her lost afterwards. A spilt bottle, and a distant painful laugh. She’s gone. The second an accident. Finding the small pup you to have the company.

A shadow looms over the chihuahua. A man and you know that figure. He’s trusting you to take care of the small canine. He’s trusting you--

You wake up one morning and the puppy can barely move. It feels like it’s your fault. No matter what you do, how much you spend, how much you hope. He’s gone. _Again._

_One, two,_ three, four.

The script has to change. When you’re on the set and everyone around you is rehearsing their lines you insist on a specific one. A sequence of events. Maybe if you rewrite it. Rewrite the truth, and in the back there is a flash.

In the crowded dingy shots you can see his face. A figure in the background always looking at you. It crawls it itches and again you feel that burn of poison when they praise you. Congratulate and cheer for you.

You’ve done so well. Building your entire life up on a lie and a murder.

Three is a gift.

A small prized dog from your manager, what’s-his-name? Just another face in the crowd. When you look you meet crimson-violet eyes, those oh so familiar eyes and only focus on the pup. A small diva, she’s a star and you have to keep her.

Was it worth it?

Poison, left out. And the irony burns bitter on your tongue.

Sleep is troubled, and he sits at the end of your bed. Around him, one, two, three. Bright and colourful, happy and free. It’s soft, it’s nice. It’s _wrong._ You can hear the accusation in the song, the truth. The truth will come out, the truth will be set free, the truth.

You shut it out, you shut it out. Yu run, you flee.

Four comes to you in a store window. An absolute delight with a love for life, for you, for everything.

You hear footsteps in the night, and like a timer counting down he gets closer in your dreams. Until you can’t sleep, you have a performance. When you look back for a moment you see him, standing there. And that prickling coil, the one you know so well twists deep in your belly.

You don’t deserve this.

The bell comes crashing down.

It’s almost too quick to feel the pain. Everything breaking and shattering, folding together at once. Sharp lances, knives, thorns and spikes. The scream can’t even escape and when you step off into the crowd you see him in the sea of faces.

You pretend you can’t...

He never approaches you anyway.

_One, two, three, four_

They all wait to greet you. And in the night, far away, you can distantly hear him singing that song.

But as you continue, you still feel that coil. The lie you wear heavy on your bones. You are exposed, you are nothing, you are worthless.

Yet you stand up on that stage tall and proud. They’re here to see you. And down in the shadows, watching, you see a lone figure. His eyes glow crimson, like the blood on your hands.


End file.
